24. Alina
24
ALINA
D amn it. Talk about terrible timing for an interruption. I jump to my feet, look around for my shorts and tug them on, pull down my T-shirt, finger comb my hair back into a ponytail, and try not to look like someone who just had the best orgasm of her life.
Then I open the door.
It’s River. She looks at me, and then at Tomas, and back at me with a smirk. “I’m so sorry to disturb you,” she says. “Really sorry. But I have the same billing issue Sara did. And it’s not just us. Sergio has been double-billed as well, and so have Ryan and Chris.”
I frown. Tomas moves to the computer. “Groff again,” he says in disgust after a few minutes. “He’s been double-billing some of your members.” He clicks more keys. “About a quarter of them, for the last three months.”
“Damn it,” I swear. So much for my sex haze. “Simon strikes again.” I give River an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry. I will take care of this today, I promise.”
“No worries, Ali.” River sounds remarkably unconcerned for someone who has been over-billed for a quarter of a year. “I trust you to handle this.”
She leaves, and I turn to Tomas in frustration. It’s not fair. I was making out with him. He spanked me. He caught my hand in his and held it over my head, and he kissed me as if he couldn’t get enough of me. And then he licked me with his clever, talented tongue until I came.
I don’t want to deal with Simon’s latest disaster. I want to drag Tomas upstairs to my apartment, lock the door behind us so no one can interrupt, and I want him to fuck me.
But unfortunately, I can’t do that. This isn’t a trivial issue; this is financial fraud, and I could get into real trouble.
“He really is the gift that keeps on giving,” I bite out. “What a fucking mess. This is fraud. If someone complains to the authorities?—”
“They won’t,” Tomas says confidently. Unfazed as usual. If I hadn’t heard him growl with my own ears a few minutes ago when he pushed his fingers into me and found me wet, I wouldn’t have believed it possible. “You heard that woman. Groff was a piece of shit, but they trust you, Alina. You’ve got this.”
His words make me feel better. “Let me get a cup of coffee, and I’ll start drafting an email to my members apologizing for Simon’s fuck-up.”
“Didn’t you bring coffee? I could have sworn I saw you with a travel mug. Ah, here it is.” He picks it up off his desk and hands it to me. “It’s still hot.”
My cheeks turn pink. “That coffee isn’t for me,” I say sheepishly. “It’s for you.” I thrust the mug into his hand. “Here. I tried to make your disgustingly sweet concoction, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ve never made it before, and I stirred in the sweetened condensed milk before I realized the coffee and the condensed milk were supposed to be separate layers. So, it might not be very good.”
His eyes turn warm. “You made me a café bombon? Why?”
I’m too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “I told you. The sugar hides the rat poison.”
He takes a sip, and a bittersweet expression washes over his face. “It tastes like home,” he says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear him. “Thank you.” Then, that vulnerable expression vanishes, and he gives me his maddening grin. “You’re still trying to poison me? I’m hurt, Alina. I thought we agreed to be friends.”
“I see the lack of sleep has made you delirious,” I respond with a roll of my eyes. “My friends call me Ali, by the way.”
But Tomas and I are not friends. Friends don’t spread your legs, spank you, and make you come.
We’re not friends. We’re not enemies either, not anymore, not after today’s make-out session.
So, what are we?